The Blue in the Fire
by Operation Milkdud
Summary: "Apparently, you're the only one my wreck of a heart will allow in my dreams. Now tell me...am I selfish? Or am I lucky, that I've found someone I care enough about that they take precedence over everyone and everything else, even when I'm asleep?" LJ
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist.

Note: I have intended this as a one-shot, but I may continue if it gets a good response. Or if I happen to get really, hopelessly bored.

-:-

It was just after three in the morning when the screen of Teresa Lisbon's cell phone lit up her bedroom, ringing shrilly. She licked her lips, dry from sleep, and pressed her warm palm to her forehead, feeling the sheen of cold sweat left over from a nightmare. The fingers of her free hand fumbled in the dark for her bedside table, finding the phone and flipping it open.

"Lisbon," her gravelly voice answered.

"Boss, we've got a case," Cho said smoothly, and Lisbon could hear many voices in the background, and an awful noise that she supposed was meant to be music.

"'Mmkay. What's the location? Local PD on the scene?" She sat up slowly, stretched, and twisted her torso to dangle her legs from the side of her bed.

"Fifteen thousand forty-two Toddley Road. There are several units here, trying to keep the crowd back. There's been quite a turnout."

"Alright." Must be a particularly grisly, public murder scene, to have garnered so many rubber-neckers. "I'm on my way."

Of the members of her team, Lisbon lived the farthest from the crime scene, so she arrived after Van Pelt and Cho, and minutes before Rigsby. Jane was nowhere to be seen. Once the four of them were together, Cho filled the rest of them in on what he'd learned from police. It was difficult to hear over the sizable crowd of people that had gathered; the local PD had established a perimeter, but that did nothing for the noise. Some of it was coming from businesses around the crime scene, which Lisbon noticed, with distaste, was a rundown strip club.

"So far, we know the victim is twenty-two year old Amanda Hayes, multiple stab wounds. She worked at the club here. Manager saw her clock out around eleven p.m., and around one this morning, he locked up, and his was the only car in the parking lot. No sign of Amanda. She was found by a coworker shortly afterward behind the dumpster that the club and another business share. General speculation is, she may have been meeting someone back there, because there're no signs of a struggle elsewhere on the premises."

"Meeting someone. For any number of harmless reasons, I'm sure," Van Pelt muttered. Rigsby glanced at her with a worried expression. He'd done that a lot lately.

"Well, let's go check out the body, then."

Amanda Hayes was slumped against the far side of a grimy green dumpster. Shining a flashlight on the young woman's face, Lisbon could tell she had been very pretty in life. Her hair needed washing and her makeup was far too heavy; her flashy clothes had definitely seen better days, but she would have been one to turn heads. And judging by her choice of job, she'd known it. Lisbon always pitied the ones who had endured so much in life, and still met a violent end. But something about the woman's face demanded that Lisbon not dismiss her. She eyed the bloody places on the woman's torso and her throat tightened. There was truly no justice for some.

"Woah! Why all the long faces? Did someone die?" Jane said, appearing out of some dark, black hole, entirely inappropriate. He looked down at Hayes' still form. "Oh, well...I do have incredible intuition. Perhaps I am psychic after all!"

"Jane," Lisbon hissed, "please, if you aren't going to offer any _useful_information, just leave!"

"Just hold your horses, Lisbon! I'm missing perfectly blissful beauty sleep to boost your morale. The least you could do is pretend I'm succeeding."

Rigsby sucked his lips into his mouth as though trying to hide a smile.

"Oh, my God. This is so inappropriate. Jane, please. Clues? Now?" Lisbon felt heat flaring in her collar, and she crossed her arms tightly against herself to keep out Jane and the invading chill of death in the morning.

"Okay, Super Sleuth. Let's see here..." Jane knelt down beside the body and kept his eyes on the girl's face as he gestured toward Lisbon.

"What? What is it?"

"Shine your lovin' light on me, oh lovely Lisbon," Jane said in monotone. Lisbon rolled her eyes and handed her flashlight down to him, trying to ignore Rigsby's and Van Pelt's muffled chuckles. Cho was impassive as ever.

Jane tilted his head this way and that, moving the beam over the girl's still cooling body, his mouth slightly open in thought. Lisbon thought for a moment that he reminded her of a very attractive dentist. She blushed in the darkness.

_Dead girl in front of you, Teresa. Be a professional. Do not ogle your consultant. _

After another moment, Jane stood, clicked off the light and handed it to Cho, who was nearest. He was silent.

"Well?" Lisbon asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I think we can safely say that this young lady was, unfortunately, murdered." Jane answered, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other gesturing to no one in particular.

"Is that all?" Lisbon asked, trying to control her impulse to knock him out with the butt of her gun.

"Of course not. Obviously." He looked down at the body. "Although it would be very easy to assume the victim was simply a misguided woman with no respect for herself, a cursory glance tells me she wasn't. For instance, though her clothes indicate she was, in fact, a stripper, it was hardly her career of choice. Her nails are perfectly manicured, there are no visible tattoos, no obvious needle marks from drug use...etcetera. This woman took care of herself. Very proud of her body, in a modest, subtle way. Not likely to share herself with a ton of strangers for money."

"Just because she doesn't fit into some stereotype doesn't mean-" Van Pelt began, but Lisbon interrupted.

"He's right," she said, and she sighed. "I can see it in her face. She put on a ton of makeup to make her feel like it wasn't her that was the stripper. She was young, probably needed money. Had no where to go." And Lisbon felt that feeling in her gut, that horrible guilt that she had somehow been responsible. She might have seen the girl on the street and ignored her because of how she dressed, how much eyeshadow she caked on. In situations like this, it seemed that every person who had seen and done nothing had contributed to this girl's early death. Lisbon's mind flashed to the moment Jane had shot Timothy Carter, and she tried not to think of how often she failed people.

"Stop that, Lisbon." Jane said quietly. He was suddenly at her side, and she was momentarily knocked off balance at his nearness.

"Stop what?" she whispered.

"Blaming yourself. She was the victim of circumstance...also, stabbing, and strangulation, and probably poverty and loneliness and-"

"Did you say, 'strangulation?'" Lisbon asked suddenly, and Jane paused.

"Well, yes. There are tiny burns just under her ears. Could really be from anything, but I'll bet come tomorrow we'll find out that's what actually killed her."

"Hey, Boss? The chief wants a word." Lisbon nodded. She hadn't really noticed Cho had stepped away, because she'd been too busy listening to Jane's antics. She knew the coroner's report would declare Jane right, and the cause of death would be strangulation. But why, if Amanda Hayes was strangled to death, would her attacker then need to stab her so many times? And she had it.

Rage. Pure, unadulterated rage.

So in the span of five minutes, Jane had determined what kind of girl the victim was. A modest person with self-respect and decency, who had fallen victim to the ways of the world, and then some angry, vicious killer. It was so wrong-place-with-wrong-people-at-the-wrong-time, and Lisbon couldn't keep her thoughts from going to her brothers, and the numerous times she'd had to bail them out of jail, the questionable company they'd kept, and the demons they had all wrestled with their whole lives. The difference between Amanda Hayes and the Lisbon boys was simple: for the Lisbons, someone had been there. For Hayes, no one had.

And no one had been there for Jane through the worst of his life, either. Lisbon shuddered.

"Boss, are you alright?" Van Pelt asked, and Lisbon blinked to rid herself of her dark thoughts.

"I'm fine, just taking mental notes. Next step is the motive. I'm going to go see what the chief wants. I know it's early, but let's get contact info for Hayes' coworkers, family, boyfriend, and whoever found the body. We'll interview them at a more reasonable hour. They may not even know she's gone yet."

With her orders given, Lisbon turned on her heel before anyone else could ask if she was okay. But she caught the look on Jane's face, and she knew he wouldn't be letting it go.

When the day was done and they'd accomplished all they could, Lisbon returned to her empty house and went straight to her room. She climbed into her unmade bed, shoes and all, and pulled the covers up to her chin. She didn't know how long she lay there, silently praying that the rotten images of her brothers, cold and lifeless, would leave her. How many nights had she lain awake in her youth, worrying that the next time the phone rang, it would be bad news? And every time they had a case like this, of an innocent soul who was killed because they had the misfortune to be caught up in a bad situation, all the nightmares came flooding back. She knew it was irrational; her brothers were adults now, and had long grown out of their rebellious stages. They had families and careers and security. And still, she was afraid.

And though the fear was familiar, it wasn't for her brothers.

Her mind flashed back to the nightmare she'd been having that very morning, just before her phone had rang to notify her of someone else's death.

_She was young again, maybe seventeen, still living in her drunken father's house. The sun was setting. She had just finished drying the dishes, and had put her father to bed early, when the phone rang. It was her youngest brother Tommy, asking if she was alright. There was a knock at her door before she could ask what he meant._

_Outside her door were two police officers. Their grim faces told her all she needed to know. He was dead, gone. Even though the dream made no sense, grief gripped her and shredded her like paper. Wrenched her heart from her chest, rendering it useless for the rest of forever._

_In that blurry haze of a dream, the scene suddenly changed, and she stood before a large, shiny, black casket. She swallowed, leaned forward, and her younger self gently pressed her lips against Patrick Jane's lifeless brow._

In the present, she shuddered. Since Jane had killed the man he'd thought was Red John, the nightmares had come more frequently, more vividly. Her worry for him consumed her, controlled her thoughts. She was in a cardboard box, and if she cried enough, she could burst through the damp walls. But no tears would come. If she could scream loud enough, someone would cut the tape and open the top, but her voice was withered away. But if she did nothing, she was in serious danger of being written off as useless, left in that box with musty books and broken things, and shelved.

_Shelved._

"Lisbon, I really wish you'd stop feeling sorry for yourself. It's just not your shade of blue."

Lisbon started, straining her neck to see over the covers still hiked to her chin. There was Jane, leaning against the frame of her bedroom door, looking for all the world like he belonged there.

"How did you get in my house?" she asked tiredly. Probably he had picked the lock, but she didn't want to seem okay with it.

"That you even have to ask that question is insulting," he said, rolling his eyes as he came to stand beside her bed. Once he looked into her eyes, though, his expression softened. "Lisbon...Teresa, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she answered, turning away. "We'll catch him. Or her. Whoever did it. Like we always do." That made her smile a little.

"Yes, we will, but that's not what I meant," Jane persisted, crossing his arms. Lisbon raised an eyebrow. Begrudgingly, she sat up, and Jane immediately sank down beside her on the bed, keeping his posture perfect and still maintaining that careless, relaxed manner that made him Jane. Lisbon said nothing, waiting for him to speak.

"I wish you'd tell me what's wrong, so I can make it better. Your attitude really takes the pleasure out of coming to work every day." His attempt at humor is lost on Lisbon, who just stares ahead. Ahead at nothing but the blank wall of her bedroom, devoid of photographs of her family or even replicated artwork by some long dead famed artist. She was so utterly, completely afraid of _that_. Enjoying something familiar, lest it be taken away.

Jane seemed to realize this at the same time that she did, because his voice lost all teasing, and he simply said, "Oh, Teresa."

Slowly, painfully, his arm snaked around her tiny shoulders. His hand curved around her upper arm, and he gently pulled her toward him, until their sides were flush against each other. He looked down at her hands, resting unnaturally still on her knees. He placed his free hand on top of hers.

The entire action seemed to take ten years. Neither of them said anything, until at last, Lisbon felt that Jane deserved to be acknowledged.

"I worry for you, Jane."

"I know. You worry for everyone." They were looking straight ahead, at the same place on the wall, not at each other.

"No, not everyone. Not anymore." Quietly, in whispers. She almost hopes he doesn't hear.

"Well, I-"

"Does that make me a bad person? A selfish person? Shouldn't I be more concerned, when I've seen first hand what people can do to each other?" Her voice cracks, and she hates herself for it. Hates herself for being so harsh toward Jane since his trial and acquittal. Why had she done it? To push him away? She blinked.

"You could never be a bad person, Teresa. You were worried for Amanda Hayes today," he offered, almost as an afterthought. "I saw how you looked at her. You look at all of them that way. You do not take the loss of life lightly, and everyone knows that."

"But I have nightmares, Jane!" Lisbon shot back, and against their previous hushed tones, it almost seemed like a shout. She ripped herself away from him, flung herself from her bed. She leaned into the blank wall that she had kept her eyes fixed on. Pressed her forehead and palms against its cool, bare surface. Why was she falling apart now?

"What kind of nightmares, Lisbon?" Jane asked weakly. Like an aching, injured animal. And for some reason, that sent her over the edge.

"The bad kind, Jane," she mumbled, keeping her face pressed into the wall. She didn't dare look at him. "The kind I'm ashamed to have. Because they're never, ever about the poor people whose murders we solve for a living. They're never about Grace, who looks a little more damaged every day, or Rigsby, who suffers because he can't help her. Or even Cho, and he has so many things in his life, so much tragedy I could never wrap my mind around." She closed her eyes, exhaled, and felt her warm breath bounce off the wall and back into her face. It was too hot. She turned her face downward. Her breath fell to the floor.

The hardest part to admit to came next. She felt herself die a little when she spoke the words out loud.

"They're not even about my brothers. Or my mother. Or anyone who has a rational reason for being important to me." A tear slides down her face, and it shocks her enough for her to realize Jane has come to stand beside her, and he, too, is facing downward, his hands in his pockets. Neither spoke.

"What's so interesting down there, hmm?" he asked quietly. Lisbon didn't move. She felt him turn to face her. His arm extended, his fingers found her chin and gently turned her face so that she had no choice but to look at him.

His thumb applied gentle pressure to the tear that still clung to her skin. He didn't wipe it away. Rather, it seemed it was trying to help her absorb it, so that it would be like it never happened. Try as she might, she couldn't keep her bottom lip from quivering. She instantly regretted it, because Jane's eyes missed nothing, and the brokenness in his blue gaze seemed to dim his light. A sound tore from Lisbon's throat, the sound of defeat, and she tried to look away, to cast her gaze downward again, but Jane stopped her short.

His fingers pulled her chin up, more forcefully than before. She barely had time to notice his expression was set, determined, and his blue eyes were not the color of the ocean, but the hottest part of the flame.

His lips met hers, warm and soft. Not moist, but then she imagined hers were dry as a bone, too. She instantly knew something was wrong with her; her consultant was kissing her, something she dreamed about as often as she woke up screaming from nightmares about his death, and she was pondering mouth moisture levels.

His hand found the back of her neck, his fingertips slipping into her hair at the scalp, and then taking a strand between two fingers, following it down to the end.

Once her hair fell back to her neck, she realized the kiss was over. How long had it lasted? Had she responded? He was leaning against her, holding her. Exhausted.

Then, quietly, "I don't dream about my wife and child anymore."

Lisbon swallowed.

"Apparently, you're the only one my wreck of a heart will allow in my dreams. Now you tell me, am I a bad person? Am I selfish? Or am I lucky, that I've found someone I care enough about that they take precedence over everyone and everything else, even when I'm asleep?"

Lisbon said nothing. She couldn't. She absolutely could not think quickly or thoroughly enough about what her consultant, Patrick Jane, had very nearly admitted.

Hours seemed to pass, and he kissed her temple.

"I hope we'll both sleep well tonight, Teresa," he whispered, and he was gone.

-:-

It was some time after he'd left that she managed to pry herself from the wall and walk the five feet to collapse into her bed. She tucked her knees into her stomach and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come swiftly.

She thought of Jane and his "perfectly blissful beauty sleep" and she realized he hadn't referred to sleep as "blissful" before. Ever. And she pondered his good mood when he'd arrived at the crime scene. How attentive he'd been, not to the case, but to her. At the time she'd written it off as Jane being sarcastic, Jane being annoying, Jane being inappropriate.

It now occurred to her that it was Jane, in love.

-:-

_Review, because A. It only takes 30 seconds and B...I'll figure that one out later. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist. But I do own seasons 1 and 2 on DVD :)**

Note: I was so thrilled with the feedback I got for this story! It really surprised me, because I felt like it could have been better, but I'm so glad I decided to post it anyway. Also, I have had quite a bit of time off, and thus, this chapter. :) I hope you enjoy this. I definitely enjoyed writing it.

TWO

The next morning, Lisbon awoke to an odd sensation A slight tingling feeling on her lips, in her scalp, on her hands. She realized immediately that everywhere Jane had touched her felt more alive than the rest of her at that moment, or maybe, more alive than any part of her had ever been.

Then, since she was Lisbon after all, she realized it was ten a.m. and she was two hours late for work. Throwing off the covers and bolting to the bathroom, it didn't dawn on her that Jane may have come back the night before, and he might be waiting on her to make an appearance. She tried to ignore the fact that she hoped that was the case.

She forced herself not to hurry. She needed time to mull over things. Of course, she wasn't sure there was anything to think about. Nothing concrete had been admitted; the words had only been the ramblings of two confused, tired people who shared genuine concern for each other. She was probably just imagining that Jane was in love with her. She had no proof, after all. That conclusion seemed enough to calm even the logical side of her, and as she showered, Lisbon puzzled only over their newest case.

Once she had dressed, she called Cho to inform him that she was on her way.

"Alright, Boss. You needed the extra sleep. Been looking tired lately." Ah, that lovely, brutally honest Cho. How she cherished him.

"Thanks for that, Cho. See you in a few." Lisbon opened her front door and paused, willing herself not to look over her shoulder. After struggling for one minute longer than was reasonable, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, glanced around her living room and winced. No sign of Jane, and she was an idiot.

-:-

"Hey, Boss! We missed you this morning. Jane brought doughnuts!" Van Pelt said too cheerily. Lisbon suspected Cho had voiced his concerns to the young agent, and as a result, she was being especially nice.

"There aren't any left?" Lisbon asked, walking with Van Pelt toward her office.

"Well..."

"Hey Boss, where've you been?" Rigsby asked, walking up to them with one half of a glazed doughnut crammed in his mouth. Van Pelt grimaced.

"There was one left, about thirty seconds ago," she said, glaring at Rigsby, who turned beet red and swallowed.

"That's okay," Lisbon said quickly, saving Rigsby's feelings. "You know I prefer a bear claw to a doughnut any day." She smiled at Rigsby, and he seemed to calm a little.

"And don't I know it," Jane said, appearing as if on cue, with a small white paper bag in his hands. "For you," he said, holding it out to Lisbon.

Aware that Van Pelt and Rigsby were watching, Lisbon decided to put aside her questions for Jane until later. She rolled her eyes and took the bag, her favorite scent of bear claw already filling her nostrils. She noticed Jane looked to have a question in his eyes, a curiousness which she felt the need to quell immediately. Because she didn't have any answers to give him, didn't know if she ever would.

"I'm impressed, Jane. Doughnuts and bear claws? Do I even want to know how many people you've pissed off already this morning?"

And that seemed to be enough; Jane seemed satisfied. To be back to their usual behavior, that was what she wanted. Nothing different. Well, maybe Jane could avoid incurring the wrath of everyone within a fifty mile radius.

"For your information, Lisbon, I'm not the one in trouble today...yet. I heard Haffner wants to see you in his office ASAP. Probably to yell at you for being late. That's just a guess, though." He smiled, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and Lisbon was grateful for it. It was his way of telling her that everything they had said the night before was forgotten, and all was well. She smiled back.

"Well, I'll make sure to tell him that you know exactly what happened to his lunch last week. I'd say you've got about twenty minutes to conjure up an excuse," she said, glancing dramatically at her watch. "That's just a guess, though."

He chuckled as she walked away, and Rigsby and Van Pelt stared after her. She realized it had been quite some time, actually, since she and Jane had been acting normally. Or, normally for them.

Before she knew it, she was standing outside Haffner's office, knocking. She heard him tell her to come in, and once she had closed the door behind her, suddenly felt ridiculous for forgetting to drop off her bear claw at her office. Surely Haffner would have no respect for her now, the woman with a vice for pastries. Lisbon stopped short. She was going crazy.

_Hold__it__together,__Teresa.__It's__just_Jane.

"Agent Lisbon, how are you this morning? Why don't you have a seat?" Haffner said pleasantly, and Lisbon found it was getting hard not to like him. Yes, he was a bit pretentious, but not unkind. She smiled and sat across from him, trying to clear Jane from her thoughts.

"I'm fine, thank you. And I hope you are well."

"Yes, very. Now I know you have a case, and you're eager to get started, so we'll skip the small talk. Do you know why I asked to see you?"

"I do. Well, I think I do. I know I was late this morning. I had a...a bad night," she admitted awkwardly. "It won't happen again."

"Ma'am, are you guaranteeing me that you'll never have a 'bad night' again for the rest of your life?" he asked, suppressing a smile.

"Oh, no. I meant, I'll never be late," she said quickly, clenching the paper bag in her hands. Damn that Jane.

"You can't really be sure of that, either. You could get caught in traffic. Get stuck waiting in line for your breakfast," he said pointedly, causing Lisbon to blush. "There are a lot of variables out there, things neither you or I can control. No matter how hard you may try, some things are going to go wrong. You see what I mean?"

And suddenly, she did. This was not about her tardiness, now or ever. It was about her consultant. Her irritating, paperwork overload inducing nightmare of a consultant. And her inability to control him. She knew this conversation would happen with Haffner, as it had with Minelli and Hightower before him. She just hoped she wouldn't be left feeling...well, hopeless, after it was over.

"Yes, Sir." That was all she could say. He took in her expression, and his own softened.

"No, I don't think you do. I'm not disciplining you, I'm not even_threatening_to discipline you. I want you to know that, with all due respect, you look completely worn out, and I think it's because you put way too much of yourself into this job."

Lisbon gaped at him. Her boss was telling her she took her job too seriously? What, now?

"Don't look at me like that. Just rest assured that I'm aware of how effective your team is at solving cases. And yes, they'd be effective without Jane, but he certainly contributes. There's nothing I can do about the paperwork or the stress of keeping up with him, but I can promise you, not as your boss, but as your equal, that I will never punish you for his methods. Those people who've complained in the past, they don't see the bigger picture like we do. Yes, they're upset when Jane is harsh or tactless or just downright rude, but they fail to remember how much worse life would be without him. He puts the bad guys away. Both of you do. Together."

_Together._

The walls of the universe were closing in. Lisbon choked on her reply.

"Now, onto the issue of your tardiness. It is your second offense in all the years you've worked here," he said, flipping through a file on his desk, "so I feel that I can easily let it go, with no mark on your record." He smiled, and Lisbon was immediately wary, because he had been so ridiculously kind and understanding. So she knew the catch was coming.

"You'll let it go, if...I...?"

His eyes dropped to the paper bag in her lap. She glanced down, and the relief tore an odd giggle from her chest.

"Oh. Well, I don't know about that," she teased, standing up and making a show of opening the bag and looking into it. "These are my favorite, after all."

"Do you like them even more than your near-perfect attendance record?" he asked with a devilish smile. Lisbon mock-pouted. She slowly stretched out her arm, placed the bag on his desk, and sighed in defeat. But her fingers lingered on the white paper.

"Half?" she asked, fighting to hide her smile. Haffner reached out and slid the bag away from her hand, licking his lips.

"I think you'll soon learn, I'm an all-or-nothing sort of person, Agent Lisbon," he said, and grinned triumphantly down at his breakfast. Lisbon shook her head and turned to leave, mourning the loss of her bear claw with a not-so-heavy heart. But she paused just inside his door.

"Oh, um, by the way," she said, stifling laughter as she peered over her shoulder at him, "last Monday?"

"Yes, what about it?" Haffner was already reaching into the bag, but he tore his eyes away to look at her expectantly.

"Jane ate your sandwich." The shocked look on Haffner's face was enough to tell her they were now even. She grinned and went to meet her team.

-:-

Back in the bullpen, they were making a little progress toward solving the murder of Amanda Hayes. Grace had done her job thoroughly and found that Miss Hayes had not had a boyfriend, a roommate, or really anyone close to her. Her parents lived only a short drive from Hayes' apartment, but Grace determined that they had not been in touch with each other in years. Her only contact was with her coworkers, employer and a younger brother who visited her at her apartment once a month.

"So, basically, no obvious suspects whatsoever." Lisbon sighed.

"Well, the brother could be involved." Van Pelt offered unhelpfully. "There's no reason to think his visits were questionable from what I've found, but still..."

"There was tension in the family. Maybe the brother was trying to get her to see their parents and she refused. Made him angry," Cho said quietly.

"I'd bet my money on one of her coworkers. When women feel pressured to be the most attractive, they can be pretty vicious toward the competition," Rigsby said thoughtfully. Van Pelt simmered but said nothing.

"What about her boss? What's he like?" Lisbon asked, her mind working furiously to find a scenario that clicked.

"Well...he's got one daughter with an ex wife. He lost his parental rights because of the business he runs and he has an alcohol problem. I did notice that he's been hiring younger and younger girls. Hayes was the newest and youngest..." she trailed off, as if what she was about to say was going to make everything harder for them.

"But what, Grace?" Lisbon queried, wondering at where in the hell Jane was and thankful it had taken her a few minutes to notice his absence. Maybe she was getting better.

"Well...Local PD interviewed some of her coworkers and the boss already this morning...they apparently had nothing but great things to say about her. Didn't seem to be any jealousy between any of the girls," she said, glaring at Rigsby, "and they even said they've been donating a portion of their tips every night to help her pay her rent. She didn't seem to be as...appealing to the customers as the rest, so her tips weren't so great. And their alibis hold up. So...I don't know." She sounded as though she had failed the entire world with her complete ineptitude, and Lisbon forced herself to remain positive for the young agent.

"Don't worry about it. Something with turn up. We're just missing something obvious. All of us are," she said quickly, so as not to place the blame on any one person. Jane chose that moment to appear, a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

"Oh, hey, guys. I'd have been here sooner, but now that the boring stuff is out of the way, I imagine I'll enjoy myself much more." He took a seat at the head of the table and sipped his tea. Lisbon's eyes shot flaming daggers of death his way.

"Jane, the 'boring stuff' is everything you _need__to__know_ to get the investigation started. Now we're going to have to go through everything all-"

"Relax, Lisbon. I already know everything you discussed. I hacked Grace's computer hours ago." He turned to Van Pelt and grinned. "I hope you don't mind, dear, but with a password that simple," he said, raising an eyebrow at Rigsby, "it's like you're begging me to break the rules." Van Pelt blushed a deep red color, and Jane sat back in his seat, getting comfortable. "May I suggest something with numbers? Those are much harder to-"

"Can we please, get back on track, hmm?" Lisbon interjected. "Van Pelt, your password is obviously no longer secure, so change it as soon as possible. After that, you and Rigsby talk to the parents and the brother. I want to know why they were barely speaking to the victim. Cho, you head down to the club, take Hayes' boss and coworkers. There's something funny about keeping an employee who doesn't bring in much profit, no matter how much you like them. And Jane, you and I are going to Hayes' apartment. See what we can find there. Alright, everybody-"

"Actually Lisbon, I think Cho should take the family, Rigsby and Van Pelt should take the club and you and I should have a conversation with the boss. Just saying." He put his palms out defensively, but his smirk ruined it for Lisbon. "And I suppose we can do as you said and visit the apartment, too."

"And why, exactly, do you feel that way, Jane?" Lisbon already wished she hadn't asked. She and the others, except for Jane, stood to leave. She stared down at him.

"Because the boss sounds the most interesting, Cho is the best at providing a warm, fuzzy, forget-someone-is-dead-and-answer-my-question attitude, and Rigsby likes women. And Van Pelt may, too. I don't know, I'm not very good at reading people."

Lisbon slapped her palm against her forehead and mumbled.

"What was that, Lisbon? You love me and want to have midget Janes?"

"I said, 'Get in the car or you're dead.'"

"That doesn't sound like you love me at all," Jane said, standing up and putting his teacup to his lips, eyeing Lisbon over the rim. She felt her stomach drop and realized the rest of the team had already left, whether to follow hers or Jane's orders, she didn't know. Probably Jane's.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Lisbon snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. She felt so exposed suddenly. The intense look on his face contrasted starkly with the lighthearted attitude he'd displayed moments before.

Jane stepped closer, and she vaguely heard the clink of his cup and saucer as he placed it on the table. His blue eyes stared straight through her. She swallowed and immediately hoped he didn't notice. Her fingers curled into her arms.

He was inches away. Lisbon felt quite dizzy, and realized she was holding her breath. The anticipation was killing her. Then, with a deadly serious face, Jane spoke.

"You're looking much prettier today, Lisbon. Been having good dreams?" She almost missed the playful brush of his lips against her cheek, and then he dashed from the room. She heard him call over his shoulder, "First one to the car gets to drive!"

And as much as the thought of Jane driving terrified her, she stood rooted to the spot, slowly raising her fingers to her cheek.

This time, the place where he had touched her did not tingle with a bittersweet memory. That was a sensation she could bury beneath her pillow forever.

Instead, the flesh beneath her fingers burned uncomfortably, almost blistering. She knew part of it was the blush creeping down her body, and part was only her imagination, just as the sensations from the earlier morning had been. But the difference was there, and she could not ignore it.

She could not stop herself from wondering, even hoping, if Jane was burning now, too.

-:-:-:-:-

I know, I know...I'm a sick person, for torturing imaginary characters. Anyway, I appreciate all reviews, whether they are silly like Jane, serious like Lisbon, or even completely indifferent, like Cho. :D


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